


The Slimmest, Wildest Chance

by fionnabhair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Friendship, Hogwarts Era, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: From Diagon Alley to Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-29
Updated: 2005-10-28
Packaged: 2018-10-27 13:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fionnabhair/pseuds/fionnabhair
Summary: Ginny must learn to deal with a Harry Potter who may, or may not, have seen the light. Sequel to "Men Love With Their Eyes





	1. Prologue: Summer Loving

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Author’s Note: This is the sequel to “Men Love With Their Eyes” which I strongly suggest you read first – otherwise aspects of this fic simply won’t make sense. It takes place between the final chapter of “Men Love With Their Eyes” and the epilogue. Enjoy!

 

Prologue: Summer Lovin’

There were reasons, Ginny reminded herself sternly, why her Mum had told her not to talk to strangers. Not that Harry Potter was a stranger in the strictest sense of course – but there was no doubt that he was considerably odder than anyone else she knew (except for Luna, and, well, Luna was special.) Thus, she shouldn’t talk to him.

She stared at her reflection, fascinated by the cycles of meaningless thoughts that swirled in her mind, and smoothed lip balm over her lips. The house was very quiet and so she had a rare opportunity to indulge in that most feminine of habits – what her mother called primping. For most of Ginny’s life sitting in front of a mirror, for any reason at all (except of course for shaving) had been treated as a deviant tendency that must be stamped out with all necessary force. The twins could really be annoying at times.

She considered pinning her hair but after a few minutes gave up in disgust – there was simply too much of it. Her arm ached from the effort of twisting it into a bun. Anyway, she wasn’t trying to look good for anyone. She snorted at her own evasions, and flopped down on her bed, staring out of the window.

Fine. She could admit it.

She was nervous. Petrified in fact. Bloody Harry Potter was coming to stay – for a month – and there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it. Everyone loved Harry. It didn’t strike any of them that he could be an infuriatingly dense excuse for a wizard, who didn’t even notice when somebody kissed him. Git.

She shouldn’t have done it of course – she had only herself to blame. It was just, he had looked so tired, and so sad at the prospect of going back to the Dursleys, that she hadn’t been able to help herself. Not that it had been a proper kiss – just a peck on the cheek – but the point was, Ginny never touched Harry. She had given it all away – in that one stupid, unguarded moment, she had let him know everything.

Of course, it was entirely possible that he hadn’t noticed. His letters (actual letters, addressed to her, not just postscripts tacked on to Ron’s letters, expressing a devout, if meaningless, hope that she was well) hadn’t seemed strange, or awkward or anything.

It was an unfortunate side effect of primping, that the silence required for its execution also facilitated brooding. Ginny knew very well that it wouldn’t do to think about Harry any more – she had far more important things to spend her time on. The thing was though, that he tended to pop up in the moments when she had nothing to do – and thus Ginny brooded. Inevitably there gaps between her fears about Lord Voldemort, her worry about her family, her grief for the friends who had died already and dread for the ones who surely would die before the war was over – and Harry tended to fill those gaps.

In a way she was grateful – at least she could still pretend that she was still a normal girl if she was mooning over some boy – but she resented it at the same time. How come it never affected him? Why didn’t Harry spend hours puzzling over the exact meaning of her calling him “a lifesaver”?

Ginny winced at the pun, yet again, and wondered why she was condemned to be so befuddled by him. She could blame it on the Weasley heritage (Ron was a case in point) but the fact was, not everyone in her clan was doomed to languish in love – look at Bill. He certainly didn’t have any problems with the opposite sex (though of course the comparison between a dashing curse-breaker and a long-skirted school girl went along way towards explaining that.)

True her situation wasn’t as hopeless as she liked to make out. He didn’t like anyone else as far as she knew (and since Ron and Hermione had both been at great pains to point this out, her knowledge was fairly accurate.) She wasn’t hideous, and they seemed to get on…but until she heard him say it, she couldn’t act on her feelings for him. The possibility of rejection, and the unspeakable embarrassment it would involve, and the ensuing damage to their friendship, was just too painful to even contemplate.

So she didn’t contemplate it – ever. No matter what Hermione said (and since she had arrived at the Burrow she had said plenty) Ginny was not going to delude herself with false hope. She saved that for her hopes that everyone she loved would simply survive the war – she had none left for her love life.

Ginny was roused, from a truly unhealthy amount of brooding, by a large crash downstairs. Picking up her wand she made her way down the stairs – not that she expected anything dangerous, but it never hurt to be careful.

The crash however had a rather more mundane source – Harry Potter falling out of the fireplace. His glasses had fallen off, and Ginny picked them off the floor and dusted them off with her top before handing them back to him.

Sliding her wand into the back pocket of her jeans she said, “Still having trouble with that Floo powder?”

“Don’t put your wand there! Better witches than you have lost a buttock you know!”

“Who do you know who’s lost a buttock?”

Harry grinned and threw his arms around her – Ginny found herself buried in a white shirt. “I’m so glad to see you,” he said, and she was surprised by the sincerity of his voice. She cocked her head upwards, looking at him curiously – powerfully reminded of the day she finished her OWLs, and also attempting to repress that memory as much as possible. Harry smelt clean, like the sweet scent of grass on a rainy day, and his body was very hard against hers.

At just that moment Ron came tumbling out of the fireplace, and Fred and George clattered through the back door. Ginny sprang away from Harry immediately, concentrating desperately on not blushing. Fred took one look at them and said, “Not interrupting any touching reunions are we?”

Harry flushed up a bit, and scowled as George added, “It’s just if we’re about to witness a touching display of young love, let us know so we can find the sick bucket.”

Ginny’s mind, usually full of glib responses, froze completely – it was only Hermione’s sudden arrival though the fireplace, followed by Tonks, her Mum, Hestia, Lupin and her Dad, that saved her. She moved away from Harry as quickly as possible, forcing down a shuddering sigh at the thought of feeling him so close – she had forgotten what it was like.

It was an hour or two before she spoke to him again – the Burrow was full of so many chattering presences that he was easy to avoid. It was only when she had caught him staring at her for the fourth time that she opened her mouth. “Have I something on my face?”

Harry flushed again. “No. Nothing.”

“Well, then, what is it?”

“It’s…nothing.”

“No – no it’s not.” Ginny wasn’t sure why she was being so perverse, but blast him, he just couldn’t look at her like that and say it was nothing.

Harry swallowed, his eyes moving from his plate to her face several times before saying, “It’s just…you look really…pretty today.”

It sometimes happens in a room filled with people that a sudden silence will fall, and such was the case now. Harry’s comment echoed down the table, and Ginny could tell he was considering burying his head in his hands (or possibly under the table) as everyone turned to stare at him. But instead of giving in to the embarrassment, Harry raised his head defiantly and said, “Well? Doesn’t she?”

Everyone nodded, Hermione with a pointed smile, and Lupin introduced a less astounding subject of conversation. Soon everyone was chatting away as usual, and Harry became involved in a Quidditch discussion with Fred and George – though he didn’t miss her sending him a small smile of gratitude.

There were times when Ginny didn’t know why she loved Harry Potter so much – this wasn’t one of them.


	2. Chocolate in the Library

The more Ginny looked at her watch, the more he didn’t come. She tapped her fingers in irritation to avoid Madam Pince’s eye – Ginny never stayed this late in the library. She bit her lip – maybe he’d just forgot. It wasn’t a pleasant thought – she’d kill him. Maybe not actually, but Harry Potter would definitely be missing his nose once she’d finished with him.

Ginny didn’t know why she put up with this – as Hermione pointed out; she was Ginny Weasley – and, excepting her brothers, (and apparently Harry Potter) every Gryffindor male had been in love with her at some stage. She didn’t have to put up with this – it wasn’t as if she couldn’t get another guy if she wanted him, at least, so Hermione said.

In fact this wasn’t true. Since Harry Potter had started walking her to and from class, going to Hogsmeade with her, and sitting by her at every second meal, she’d become known as ‘Harry Potter’s Girl’. At first she had tried to deny it, but eventually she had given up in frustration. What was the point – no one, not even Ron, really believed her.

But the worst part of it was – Ginny didn’t even want someone else to ask her out – not even to make him jealous. Not going out with Harry was better than going out with any one else in the world – and Ginny couldn’t be more furious about it (though, due, no doubt, to her sad, romantic nature, she was more furious about not being furious than actually angry.)

She sighed, remembering the long conversation she’d had with Hermione that morning. Time to get pro-active Hermione said; time to tell him she wasn’t going to take any more of this rubbish. But then, of course Hermione would say that – she had been lucky enough to find her true love at seventeen, and he liked fighting with her. Fights with Harry tended to become long, drawn-out feuds, and Ginny just didn’t have the energy for something like that. It would hardly be possible to have that conversation without a fight.

Ginny gathered her belongings and stood up, her bag slung over one shoulder. Clearly Harry wasn’t coming – which was why it came as something of a surprise to feel a pair of arms and then a cloak draped around her. She stiffened in surprise and only relaxed when she heard him whisper into her ear, “It’s just me.”

“Took you long enough.” She said, trying to not to notice that his mouth was too close to her skin, and his breath came and went against her ear.

Within a few minutes the last remaining students and Madam Pince had left the library. Harry removed the invisibility cloak with a flourish and they went in search of various defence books. Someone had to do this with Harry once a week to make sure he would get the material he needed covered without staying up all night. It didn’t really work though, and from now on Ginny was going to suggest they use the Room of Requirement.

They’d made their way through about two books each when Ginny demanded a break. Harry tended to read without pause if you let him, but Ginny had something she thought would convince him to stop. She held up the bag and shook it slightly, saying, “Chocolate frogs.”

Harry grinned at her and leaned back in his chair. “Chocolate in the library,” he said in a high-pitched voice. “Shocking. Get out!”

“Shut up or I won’t give you any.”

Harry smiled at her and produced a surprise of his own – a flask of chilled pumpkin juice. Ginny could have kissed – an emotion that it was not exactly unusual for her to feel.

Harry conjured a few more tapers and Ginny sighed – another romantic evening with Harry Potter. That was just what she needed to aid her in her search for emotional equilibrium. The candlelight lit his face up, making his smiles all the brighter, but hiding the darkness that always shadowed his eyes. He was so handsome it took Ginny’s breath away.

It took her several minutes to work up the courage to say what she had to say to him, and she was quailing inwardly as she said, “Harry?”

“Yes?”

“People have been saying…”

“What?” He put his hand over hers – it was distracting.

“They’ve been saying that I’m…that I’m ‘your girl’ and I was thinking that maybe you should do something about that if you actually want to go out with someone…else, cause nobody believes me.”

Ginny knew her voice had increased in pitch and speed – but she could barely look at him anyway. She heard Harry sigh and dared to look up at his face. He smiled at her and said, “Ginny…don’t worry about that. I don’t want to go out with anyone…else.”

“Well…if you’re sure.”

He shook his head, frustrated, and said, “Look, you and Hermione are the only girls I really know and…I can’t be bothered to spend time with someone I barely know, when I could be with the two of you and Ron.”

Ginny nodded, disturbed that he grouped her with Hermione, but smiling and desperately trying to figure out his precise meaning. His fingers were playing with hers, and she couldn’t get away from his eyes – even when she looked away she could feel him looking at her. Ginny bit her lip, ignoring his sharp intake of breath; it was so hard not to lean over there and just kiss him.

But she couldn’t – every time she steeled herself to do it, she remembered the look on his face all those years ago, and she just couldn’t. She didn’t have enough nerve, even though his fingers were sliding over hers at this very moment.

She cleared her throat and said, “I was wondering if you could do me a favour. I’ve to get Ron’s Christmas present in Hogsmeade next weekend, and I thought maybe…you could come with me and let me know if I’m getting it horribly wrong or anything.”

He grinned at her and said, “Sorry. I can’t – I’ve got present-shopping of my own to do.”

Ginny put all her effort into not looking too crestfallen and succeeded when Harry touched her chin and said, “But we could meet in the Three Broomsticks – compare purchases.”

“Oh. Great. I haven’t had a Butterbeer in ages.”

“Well…I’ll see you there then.”

He was smiling and for a moment Ginny expected him to say something wonderful – then he opened his mouth and said, “Ginny? We should get back to work.”

Though they worked on for another two hours in candlelight, and walked back to the common room under the invisibility cloak, Ginny couldn’t quite get over the effect of his first sentence.


	3. In The Three Broomsticks

Ginny leaned hard against the door of the Three Broomsticks, and managed to open it with a clatter. She pulled one glove off with her teeth as she made her way through the crowded pub – she couldn’t see anything through the crowd. She managed to pull her coat off, and folded it over her arm, as she scanned the pub for Harry. It took a while, but she finally found him – he sat in one of the booths, peering out one steamed-up window.

She forced her way through the crowd to him, her shopping bags making her passage somewhat awkward. She sat down beside him with a ‘fwump’ and attempted to find space for everything. Brushing hair out of her face she adjusted to the steamy atmosphere of the pub – praying that her nose and ears weren’t pink from the cold.

She had a nice lilac jumper on and dark blue jeans that Hermione had persuaded her to buy, and all in all she thought she looked quite well (not that it mattered what she looked like – not that she wanted Harry to find her attractive or anything.) Harry was grinning at her, and he pushed a butterbeer towards her, which she accepted gratefully. Warmth rose through her from her toes, and she sighed with pleasure.

Harry leaned back in his seat, one arm resting just behind Ginny’s head – he looked odd, all relaxed and strung out like that. It took her a moment, for all that she watched him carefully, to realise what was so strange about him. He looked happy.

She smiled back at him, and an odd silence fell between them – she wasn’t uncomfortable or anything, but the air between her and Harry felt charged, and sparkling. She couldn’t look away from him, and only woke up when he said, “So did you get Ron’s present?”

She nodded, “Oh wait till you see it Harry, it’s perfect…I have had the most successful day. I got the best presents for everyone…” She ducked into her bags and retrieved Ron’s present – when she turned back to show it to Harry, he was shining at her. There was no other way to describe it. She wished he could always look this beautiful – this happy. Having all his attention focused on her when he was like this, was like flying on the fastest broom in the world, soaring and plummeting all at once.

She held the box out to him, and he took it from her, his fingers slipping against her hands. “What is it?” He said.

“It’s a new chessboard. His old one is all battered, and this one is really nice, you see.” She opened the box and showed it to him. “And there’s space for his chess pieces as well, so…” The box was made of a rich red-brown wood and lined with a wonderful, soft black material. Ginny almost wanted to keep it for herself – but knowing how much Ron would like it, she had restrained her urge for possession.

Harry smiled at her again, and he seemed so purely happy that she had to take a sip of her butterbeer, or risk falling to the floor in a pile of slush. His hand was resting on the top of the booth again, almost touching her shoulder. “What did you get Hermione?” He asked.

“Oh, that was easy. I got her some magic make-up, and chocolate frogs and a couple of little things; no one ever gets her anything girly except me.”

“Does she like girly things?” Harry seemed doubtful.

“Of course she does Harry! I mean, she’s not like Parvati but she likes the odd thing, just like everyone.”

He was smiling again, and he didn’t say anything, and finally Ginny had to say, “What is up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re all smiley and happy and…where’s the Incredible Angst Monster I know and love?”

He leaned a little closer. “Could you really love an Incredible Angst Monster Ginny?”

She was about to make some sharp retort, but caught herself – what exactly had she been about to say. His eyes were boring into her face, and she settled for poking him in the chest – she didn’t expect him to catch her hand.

“Well…Afraid to tell me?”

She could see something flash in his eyes, something almost like…fear, so she immediately moved to soothe him. “Harry, you know I love and adore you – we all do.”

He was glowing again. Ginny knew she should ask what exactly all this was about, but he was sitting so close to her, and his hand was nearly on her shoulder, and he had bought her a butterbeer…

A strand of hair fell into her face – seemingly without thinking, Harry brushed it away. And she couldn’t help it – a tiny gasp escaped her, and she saw his eyes widen, and then become darker. He shifted in his seat a little, moving closer to her, and his right hand slipped down on to her shoulder, and Ginny saw him surreptitiously lick his lips, and she guessed, she knew what was coming, and she felt so joyful it was beyond words…

And then Ron sat down across from them, swearing copiously. Ginny was going to kill him – she would kill him very dead and leave him for the ghosts to find…

Harry moved back towards the window, and Ginny sprang away from him (fortunately Ron didn’t notice), managing to look almost normal by the time Hermione had sat down.

Remembering something, Ginny dove under the table, shoving Ron’s present back into its bag. She sat back up to receive curious stares from Ron and Hermione (Harry was simply laughing behind his hand.) Panting slightly, she brushed hair from her face, and said, “So, see anything interesting out there…”

“Well…” Ron looked as though he was on the verge of revealing a wonderful secret. “I saw Neville with a girl.”

Ginny stared at him. “Really? Who? It wasn’t Luna was it? Because she said they had one trip to Hogsmeade and that was it – she didn’t seem to mind too much really…”

“Ginny, shut up and I’ll tell you!”

Ginny subsided, and clamped a hand over her mouth. She looked pleadingly at Ron, who eventually said, “He’s with Susan Bones, up at the bar.”

“Really?”

“Ginny!” Hermione made frantic shushing noises. “Honestly – do you want everyone to know you’re spying on them?”

“I’m not spying – I’m just happy for him.”

“What about Luna? Do you think she’ll be upset?”

“No. It was my idea really – and, well, she likes him, but she’s hardly going to pine away, is she? She told me she thinks Justin is rather dashing.”

Ginny could feel Harry staring at her, and Hermione said, “Are you sure? Luna and Justin – I can’t imagine it.”

“Neither can I really but then…well, it’s hard to tell half the time if she’s joking or not. Anyway, I don’t think Luan really wants to go out with any one at the moment.”

Harry was still staring at her, and she muttered, “What?” to him. You could have knocked her down with a feather (especially one of those weight enhanced feathers Flitwick used for teaching the first years Wingardium Leviosa) when he brushed her hair off her face, again, and said, “You might want to do something about that you know. I mightn’t always be around to get it for you.”

She stared at him, and continued to stare at him after he looked away to continue talking with Ron. He was the strangest boy in the world.

She felt Hermione nudge her ankle with one foot, and looked up to see the other girl smiling at her broadly. Later they would talk about it, and Hermione would suggest that she make the first move – “Show the dense prat what you’re made of…”

And perhaps she could, and perhaps she would…but it had been so sweet, so wondrous sweet, to see that look in Harry’s eyes that she rather wished he would chase her.

As she went to sleep that night, thinking of him, it struck her that he’d never shown any of the Christmas presents he had supposedly bought.


	4. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Ginny ascended slowly into wakefulness – stretching lavishly after the long night’s rest. It wasn’t often she got the chance to wallow luxuriously in bed and she fully intended to enjoy it to the utmost.

Fully intended that was, until she heard insistent mewling coming from the foot of her bed. She shook her head and burrowed deeper into her pillow, murmuring, “Go away”, but the noise, much to her irritation, would not go away. After a moment of willing it away, Ginny sat up and stared balefully at the foot of her bed. Nobody disturbed her Christmas morning lie-in and lived to tell the tale.

A large wicker basket was the source of the noise and Ginny scrambled towards it, pushing her hair out of her eyes. A card hung from one corner, “Happy Christmas Ginny, love Hermione and Harry.” Ginny’s mouth fell open and she flipped the lid of the basket over. Inside was a kitten. A black kitten with four white socks and a blaze on its forehead.

Her very own kitten.

Ginny tentatively reached out a hand and petted its head. The kitten batted her hand playfully with one paw and Ginny giggled. She picked the kitten up and settled it in her lap, stroking it with one hand while examining her other presents – a new telescope from Bill, a book of Muggle love-poems from Charlie (Ginny suspected the hand of a girlfriend in that), a voucher from Madame Malkins from Percy (Ginny rolled her eyes at his lack of imagination), a moving model of the galaxy from the twins (she’d wanted one of those for ages) and the best of all from Ron – a tiny Phoenix charm on a silver chain. In one of her childhood games she had been Lady Ginevra, Guardian of the Phoenix, and Ron had obviously remembered.

With a certain amount of difficulty she managed to hang the chain around her neck – the kitten caught it between its paws, and Ginny tickled her stomach, wondering what she would call it – actually her, as Ginny discovered. Briefly she considered the names Persephone and Titania, before settling on Desdemona.

Ginny set the kitten down and began to get dressed – Desdemona chased her tail. Ginny dressed warmly and comfortably and even, out of deference to her mother, wore her Weasley jumper. So what if it was bunchy, and pink – it wouldn’t matter when Harry and Ron started flinging snowballs at her.

Clutching Desdemona to her chest Ginny made her way out of the room with a definite spring in her step. She ran down the stairs, and nearly collided with Hermione. Immediately her gratitude spilled out. “Oh Hermione she’s so beautiful. Thank you so much. I love her.”

Hermione smiled and said, “I didn’t get you the cat – that’s from Harry. I got the basket and the cushion.”

“Oh well…thanks, Hermione!”

By now they had reached the common room, and Ginny could see her brother and Harry in their usual corner. Forgetting herself and her usual circumspection, she ran over to Harry, set Desdemona on a cushion, and gave him a huge hug from behind. “Oh Harry thank you so much. She’s so beautiful and I’ve wanted a cat for so long and I love her…” Eventually Ginny managed to stop her babbling and let him speak.

“I’m glad you like her Ginny.”

He was smiling and he patted her arms where they were laced around his neck. Slowly Ginny withdrew – she wasn’t usually so demonstrative with Harry, but…Desdemona was just so wonderful.

Ron was laughing at her, and Ginny moved away from Harry. She sat on the floor and crossed her legs, teasing the kitten with her fingers. She thanked Ron for his present, and showed it to Hermione. She was cooing over her kitten once again when Ron said, “What did you call her?”

“Desdemona.”

Ron burst out laughing and Ginny clutched Desdemona to her chest protectively. Harry raised an eyebrow and said, “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just a very long name for such a small cat.”

Ginny glared at him. “She’ll grow into it.”

“Like you grew into Ginevra?”

“For your information Ron, I am tall in spirit.”

“That must be very comforting Ginny.”

Hermione called an end to the prolonged sibling conflict, and eventually persuaded Ginny to leave Desdemona in the common room, and go and have breakfast. Although she found it difficult to abandon her kitten, she was also hungry…and Hermione could be very persuasive.

Breakfast soon turned into a snowball fight (snow lay thick on the ground, and dark clouds on the horizon promised more soon) and the snowball fight turned into dinner. Ginny knew there was darkness outside, knew from the many, many faces at the table that the war was not going well, and knew from the scar on Harry’s forehead that, for the four of them, this could only be a brief interlude – but she tried to forget.

It wasn’t hard to shove all dark thoughts to the back of her mind when all through dinner Harry’s leg was pressed against hers, hip to knee under the table. She wasn’t sure if he knew what he was doing, but she shivered at the contact nonetheless. And just before desert, he gave her the silver crown from his Christmas cracker and said she could be his Snow Queen, tugging at a lock of her hair and blushing slightly as he did so. But best of all was when, as Ron and Hermione teased each other, he took her hand oh so gently in his, and traced the lines of her palm with one finger. Ginny could hardly even look at him, for fear that a smile ridiculously bright, would spread all over her face. Still, though she could hardly meet his eyes for fear of exposing herself, it was terribly hard to say goodnight and go up to the girls’ dormitories – all she wanted was to sit beside him, all night.

Perhaps it was ludicrously chaste, and she was ludicrously girlish, but she couldn’t help gushing to Desdemona (and Hermione) about just how wonderful Harry Potter was before she went to bed. Yet it was hard to go to sleep, when she could hear the soft rustle of snow, and the whistling of the wind, just outside her window.


	5. Let Nothing You Dismay

Ginny slugged the last of her Butterbeer morosely – she was so tired. And it didn’t help matters that Harry Potter, he of the apparently non-existent learning abilities, had been acting strange all evening. 

She hadn’t even wanted to stay up on New Year’s Eve – she was tired, she had twisted her wrist playing quidditch, and her bed had looked awfully tempting between the warm red covers and Desdemona curled up at its foot. But Harry had insisted – he had said all kinds of things about how next year they wouldn’t be able to spend New Year’s Eve together, and how she was the only person he wanted to be with tonight, and all kinds of rubbish.

So eventually, like the poor fool that she was, Ginny had given in. Well, not only had she given in, she had run down to the kitchens and found butterbeer, and a slice of treacle tart for Harry (he claimed it was his favourite) and chocolate for herself. Everything should have been perfect – they had even managed to keep one of the small alcoves in the common room for themselves all evening, but Harry, as usual, had made a mess of it.

She didn’t know what was the matter with him. He had spent so long convincing her that she just had to spend New Year’s Eve, and yet, now he sat on his chair, staring into his butterbeer and not saying a word.

They were sitting together on a small sofa, so small in fact that they were rather squashed together. Ginny liked to think of it as ‘their’ spot, though in fact they had only had three or four conversations there. She also thought she knew what everyone thought they were doing in there, as Seamus had hollered something rather crude at Dean earlier on the evening, (Hermione, bless her, had immediately jumped to her defence, and had told Seamus, at wandpoint, to shut up.)

But Harry had ignored those comments, and certainly hadn’t attempted to actually kiss her. He sat beside her, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding his butterbeer, or ever so often tugging at a lock of her hair. Yet through all of this he had barely spoken a word, responding with the ghost of a smile to anything she said. Ginny hated to see that smile, that thin, narrow, lifeless smile – it had no right to be on Harry Potter’s face. If there was one thing she loved about him, and there wasn’t, there were thousands, it was how intensely alive he could be.

Not like Ron or Fred and George – who had something of that same quality, she had to admit. With Harry there was no bluster, no waste of energy; just pure feeling. It was one of the reasons she had always loved to see him fly – no one could ever express the sheer joy he felt simply by flying a broomstick.

But Harry wasn’t feeling anything that could even touch the bliss Ginny had sometimes seen in his face now. He was all shadows, melting into each other, his eyes veiled beneath them – still amazingly beautiful, but not happy. And if there was one thing in the world Ginny wanted, it was to see Harry happy. The way he ought to be.

Not that she wasn’t absolutely furious with him.

She was so confused. Until this evening she had been fairly certain that, well, yes Harry must fancy her. Nothing else made sense.

But now, – Ginny felt a horrible twisting in her gut, and laid her head on his shoulder so that he wouldn’t be able to see her face – now she had become almost as convinced of something else. 

Maybe he didn’t fancy her. What other possible explanation could there be? They had been sitting, alone, in a shady alcove, on New Year’s Eve, for two and a half hours, and he hadn’t even tried to kiss her. At all. Not even once.

Ginny felt a tear slide out of one eye. Maybe he just didn’t find her attractive – or maybe he was doing Ron a favour, making sure no other boy could get near. What other possible explanation could there be? Boys were supposed to want to kiss girls – they weren’t supposed to do what Harry was doing.

She didn’t know why he would do that to her, didn’t know how could possibly be so irredeemably dense as not to know that she…loved him, and that it was cruel to toy with her like this, but if that was the case, knowing Harry, it could only be from the very best of intentions.

Still, enough was enough. Ginny couldn’t stand it any longer – he was making her want to jump out of her skin. She, Ginny Weasley, was not a silly little girl, and she, Ginny Weasley, was not going to be jerked around like a puppet on a string. It was time to teach him a lesson, and though it would, she hoped, be as unpleasant as a Bat Bogey Hex, it would have at least as much of an impact.

Harry was staring out of the window, and Ginny swiftly wiped her one tear off her face. “Harry,” she said.

He managed to turn around to face her. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to bed.”

He looked astonished, and Ginny thought he wanted to ask to wait a little longer – but he didn’t. Screwing up her courage (and it was quite an effort, her legs were actually trembling) she touched his chin, and, ignoring the fact that he was blinking owlishly at her, stretched up to kiss him.

He was more than a head taller than her, so it wasn’t exactly easy, and Ginny’s hands were sweaty, and her stomach was spinning with nerves, and the kiss didn’t last that long, and it was soft, two sets of lips bumping gently, and Harry’s hand was on the bare skin of her arm, his fingers moving ever so slightly, and it only lasted for a heartbeat, but it was rich…

Ginny pulled away from him. Maybe, oh just maybe, her gamble had paid off. It couldn’t have felt so wonderful to her, and not have…stirred something in him, could it? 

He was staring at her. Ginny shrank away from the look in his eyes, and he tightened his hold on her arm – she had never seen him look quite like this before.

“Ginny…what?”

She stared at him, wishing that he would just…say something – she could have screamed at him not to leave her in this dreadful limbo, because she couldn’t, she couldn’t bear it. But Harry only raised her chin with one hand and looked into her eyes. He took a deep breath, leaned a little closer, and suddenly Ginny knew what was coming next, knew what he was nerving himself to say, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand it, so she shoved away from him and stood up quickly.

But Harry managed to keep hold of her wrist, and so she had to turn to face him. She was trembling all over, partly from the effort of restraining tears, but she managed to say, “I’m really sorry Harry.”

“What? Ginny?”

“I just thought…I thought it was okay…I’m sorry. Goodnight.”

And with that she turned and sprinted for the girls’ dormitories – as she turned into the stairs she caught a glimpse of Harry’s face. He looked as though he were torn between shock and upset, and Ginny realised once more, and all the more crushingly, that he really didn’t fancy her.

Five minutes later she lay in her bed, cuddling a small black kitten and sobbing into her pillow.


	6. Reaching Out

“Ginny, you didn’t!”

“You can keep saying that, but it’ll still be true.”

“But why – why would you do such a thing?”

“I don’t know – because I’m stupid. Oh Hermione it was horrible – I just couldn’t look at him, not even for a second.”

Hermione stared at her and said, “But Ginny – why?”

“I don’t know – I just…Hermione, I knew what he was going to say and I couldn’t stand to hear it.”

They were sitting opposite each other in the Great Hall, Ginny struggling to swallow her dinner, as Hermione fixed her with a beady eye. “What did you think he was going to say?”

Ginny flinched at her tone, and Hermione’s face softened immediately, “Sorry Ginny. I’m not annoyed. I’m just, what could he say that would be so horrible? It’s only Harry.”

Ginny shot her an anguished look. “ ‘Only’ Harry?”

“Ginny.”

“Sorry, I just…Hermione I could see it in his face.”

“See what, Ginny?”

“That…he doesn’t feel…like that…about me.”

Hermione sighed. “Ginny he does – you know he does.”

Ginny lifted her chin defiantly. “Do I? How exactly – he’s never said anything.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Has he said anything to you?”

“Honestly, Ginny this is Harry we’re talking about. Of course he hasn’t said anything.”

Ginny sat back in her seat, satisfied, and Hermione snapped, “Ginny that doesn’t prove anything.”

She had to blink back tears as Hermione said, “Look Ginny, I know that maybe it seems…but it can’t go on like this. You two haven’t even spoken in two weeks, and Harry’s been depressed and…”

“Harry’s been depressed?”

“Ginny are you blind? He hasn’t laughed at all this week – and the other night when you ran away from him after Quidditch practise…”

“I didn’t run away!”

“Oh really? Then why did you come racing in two minutes after it finished and hide up in your room all night?”

“Okay, maybe I did run away. What does it matter?”

“Do you know what he said to me?”

“What do you think – of course I don’t.”

“He sat down, glowered for a while, and then ‘Why’s Ginny so busy lately anyway?’”

“So?”

“So, Ginny – he misses you.”

“What? No he doesn’t.”

“Ginny – he does, and I know you miss him.”

This was too true to be denied, and Ginny said, “Well, what do you want me to do? He’s probably really angry with me now anyway…”

Hermione looked uncomfortable and said, “I’m sure he isn’t. Just talk to him.”

Ginny shook her head, doubtful. “I’m not sure about but…I’ll try. I can’t eat any more; I’m going back to the tower. I’ll see you later, okay.”

Hermione nodded and Ginny trudged away, hugging herself. 

Ever since New Year’s Eve, Hermione had been trying to get her alone, and tonight she had finally given in. It was quite stupid really – now Ginny had to face the fact that she was miserable without Harry. No one made her laugh so easily – no one else ever seemed to understand the drift of her thoughts so well – and yet, lately things between them had been so strained and tense that she simply couldn’t enjoy his company.

She had tried to have lunch with him a few days after The Kiss but it had been excruciating, and she had vowed never to attempt it again. Still, she did miss him. She missed him so much – if only she hadn’t been so foolish. Before she had longed to kiss him, to sit close to him and touch him – to feel his hair against the hollow of her palm, the soft skin on the inside of his wrist, the hard muscles in his shoulders – but now she just wanted to sit with him and actually talk.

She spent most of the evening working on her charms homework and watching Harry through her eyelashes. It was torture. At last, Hermione and Ron went out on patrol, and after taking a few deep breaths, Ginny plucked up the courage to join him. His face wasn’t exactly welcoming, and Ginny folded her hands in her lap to hide her nerves. “Harry,” she said, “Could I talk to you for a second?”

He leaned back in his seat and have her a measuring look. “Okay – you can talk.”

He was definitely angry. Ginny licked her lips. “I wanted to apologise…”

“What – again?”

She flushed horribly, but Harry looked almost pleased. “Yeah. I shouldn’t…have, I mean, I’m sorry that I…”

“Kissed me.”

“Harry!” Ginny couldn’t keep the anguish from her voice – in an attempt to keep it steady, she looked at the table – anywhere but at him. She didn’t see Harry look stricken as she continued. “I shouldn’t have done that – I mean…” She let out a short laugh. “I know you don’t fancy me Harry, and I didn’t mean to, I just…”

Harry’s hand on her arm interrupted her, and she looked to see his bright eyes boring into her.

“Ginny, hang on, you’ve got it all wrong…”

She didn’t want him to reassure her with meaningless words. “Harry it’s all right. I mean, we’re friends, and that’s fine, and please, don’t be angry with me, I shouldn’t have stopped speaking to you but I was embarrassed and I’m really sorry.”

Ginny was appalled to discover that she was crying; and even more appalled when Harry seized her in a hug. She couldn’t remember Harry ever hugging any one. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck, and he was holding her so tight that she felt another wave of longing – if only Harry felt even a quarter for her of what she felt for him.

And then she felt it – a ghost, a whisper of a touch against her hair. As she moved to lean her head on his shoulder, she could have sworn she felt it again, half on her ear. One of Harry’s hands had found it’s way around her waist, and she felt his fingers slip through hers, so much bigger than her own. It was a minute before she could venture to say, “Harry – are we all right?”

“Sort of, but – Ginny…” His voice trailed off.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not…you’ve got the wrong idea.” He was staring determinedly out the window.

“Yeah?”

“You really think that…”

Ginny felt that she was on the verge of hearing something important, and she trembled. Was Harry going to…was he going to say…

Professor McGonagall came through the portrait hole. “Potter,” she said, “Professor Dumbledore needs to see you.” Harry hesitated and she added, “Now, Potter.” Her voice had the crack of a whip.

Harry stood up, his hand slipping out of Ginny’s. As he walked away Ginny said, “Harry – I’ll tell Ron and Hermione and…we’ll wait for you.”

He put his hands in his pockets and looked at her intently. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to, Harry.”

“Okay then.”

“Potter – we haven’t the time!”

Professor McGonagall might have seemed angry, but Ginny could see the strain in her eyes. Harry nodded and said, “I’ll see you when I get back, Ginny?”

“Yeah. Good luck.”


	7. Fickle Fortune

Ginny struggled with her broomstick. A Bludger had collided with the tail and at least a quarter of the twigs had been bent. She wasn’t horribly worried, as the twins had bought Ron a second-hand Nimbus 2001 for his birthday, so he’d probably let her use his Cleansweep, but it was difficult to walk with nonetheless. The broom was nearly as long as she was, and she found it somewhat difficult even at the best of times. 

Still, it had been fun – they had won their match, which put them in an extremely strong position for the Quidditch cup. She couldn’t say she was looking forward to playing Slytherin exactly – the Ravenclaw Beaters at least had some sense of sportsmanship, but the Slytherins usually went out of their way to do the utmost damage to the other team. 

She sighed and decided to focus on anything other than the bruises she was sure to get in her next match. The first thought to spring to mind was, of course, about Mr. Harry Potter. He was walking beside her now, his Firebolt over his shoulder and a lazy grin on his lips. Suffice to say, his Quidditch robes fit rather better now than they had in her first year. 

He had been rather maddening lately. Ginny couldn’t quite figure out why he had changed so much after the meeting with Dumbledore – the news, while not exactly good, was hardly unexpected. She supposed it was possible that he was lying, that Dumbledore had told him something more than he had admitted – but it didn’t seem that way. She knew Harry – she didn’t always understand why she knew him so well, but she could almost always tell when he was lying.

She wasn’t exactly sure what it was that was different even – he didn’t seem depressed. It was as if he had come to some kind of resolution, but what that could be Ginny didn’t want to guess. She hated the thought that Harry might have accepted death, but it was a suspicion that occurred to her more and more frequently.

Perhaps she was foolish – he was nowhere near as depressed as he had been during her fourth year. He was just quiet, and firm, and…not Harry. She was used to his sarcastic quips and benevolently incurious attitude about other people. Not this determined young man with destiny in his eyes. He was going out of his way to spend time with people as well – he had even spoken to Colin Creevey for nearly half an hour the other night. Ginny shivered at the thought that he was making his goodbyes.

It wasn’t that he frightened her, or that she didn’t love this part of him. She did – she had always known that he was a hero. She had seen it in the way he avoided looking at her when she was at her most vulnerable, and in the kindness he had always shown to Neville (not that it was any less than Neville deserved.) It was just that, even though she loved the air of quiet assurance he radiated, she hated to see the hero that he couldn’t help being swallow up everything else. He needed to laugh. He wasn’t Harry if he didn’t laugh.

He held the door open for her now, and she walked in under his arm, catching a hint of his clean ‘just showered’ scent, and brushing ever so slightly against him. It wasn’t fair that he could reduce her to some kind of quivering mess just by being nearby. Harry smiled at her, and said, “Good game by the way.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he added, “Not that you didn’t know it. You are the best Chaser on the team.”

“On the team?” Ginny knew she was fishing, but, well, Harry Potter, the best flier the school had seen in decades, was complimenting her flying, and she was going to enjoy it.

He slung one arm around her neck. “Probably in the school now that I think of it.”

She snorted with laughter and moved away from him. “Flattery will get you nowhere Mr Potter.”

“Have you no faith in me?”

She put her head to one side for a moment, pretending to think. “No. Not a jot.”

 

”What did I do to deserve that?”

“Manhandling an innocent young woman in the Entrance Hall – that doesn’t seem like civilised behaviour to me, at all.”

“Manhandling! I’ll manhandle you!”

Ginny stared at him for a moment before they each started to laugh. Harry shook his head. “I really just said that didn’t I.”

“Yeah. And here I was thinking you were witty. I’m ashamed of you Harry.”

“Careful you – or I might just follow up on that threat.”

Ginny giggled harder. “Go on then – manhandle me, Harry!”

He looked ever so slightly disgruntled, and she eventually managed to quell her laughter enough to say, “Not that I don’t think you’re very, very masculine!”

At the look on his face she started to laugh again. He didn’t look angry at all, but ever so slightly put-out, and the expression looked so utterly out of place on him that she couldn’t gain control of herself until Luna Lovegood joined them.

She was used to Luna’s unusual hats by now, but it did come as something of a shock when she said, “I’m not glad you won.”

Ginny exchanged a glance with Harry. “Okay.”

“I supported my House – I am a Ravenclaw.”

“I know – I didn’t expect…”

“But you played really well today. You looked good enough to be a professional.”

Ginny flushed with pleasure as Luna turned to Harry. “And you were great – but then I knew you’d win. Our new Seeker isn’t very good.”

Harry didn’t say anything and Luna continued, “But then Cho Chang was so good that maybe we all expected to much.”

Ginny hid a snort – if she had been good enough to beat Cho Chang in her second match she didn’t have any huge opinion of the older girl’s abilities. Harry however was looking at Luna, and then he said something Ginny had never expected to hear him say. “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next time?”

Luna’s eyes widened even more than usual, and she said, “No thank you Harry,” very seriously.

Harry’s mouth actually hung open for a moment before he gathered himself. “It’s just I haven’t had a chance to talk to you much lately, so…”

Ginny wanted to hit him, hard, with her broomstick. How dare he? How dare he go round asking other girls out – in front of her!

Fortunately Luna was calmer than Ginny and she said, as if making an observation about the condition of the weather, “Harry…it’s really obvious you’d prefer to go with Ginny – and you should ask her anyway. She likes Butterbeer better than me.”

“Okay.”

If Ginny hadn’t wanted to hit him, she would have laughed at his expression. How was it he could find time to take Luna to Hogsmeade, and chat to Colin Creevey, but he still hadn’t managed to tell her what, if anything, he felt for her. What the bloody hell was he playing at anyway?

Luna turned to her, her eyes bulging somewhat in her enthusiasm. “Would you walk me back to my Common Room, Ginny?”

Ginny shrugged. “Of course, Luna. I’ll talk to you later Harry.”

He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll take your broomstick for you Ginny.”

“Oh…thanks.” His hand met hers as she passed it to him, and as his thumb passed over the back of her hand, she couldn’t quite restrain a shiver. As he had sunk further into himself, she had tried to avoid close contact with him, but when it happened…she stifled a mental moan as she saw that he had definitely noticed. His eyes widened, and Ginny just knew she was going to be in for yet another week of smouldering looks and nothing else. Her life really was fabulous.

Perhaps Harry sensed some of her irritation, for her dropped her hand extremely quickly and mumbled something that sounded like ‘Sorry.’

Determined to put him out of her mind, she gave him a quick wave and turned to follow Luna. It was something of a relief to be around someone who didn’t fill her thoughts with a combination of frustration, love, anger and hormones, so Ginny was more than a little aggravated when Luna said, after precisely three seconds, “How long have you been in love with Harry?”

“What!”

Luna smiled, and said in a louder a voice. “How long have you been in love with Harry?”

“I can hear you Luna – I’m just amazed that you’d think that.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Because…I’m not. I’m not.”

“Well then, why do you behave as if you are – and blush like you are – and look at him like you are?”

“All right! Maybe I am. So?”

“I was curious. I’ve been reading up on love potions…”

“Love potions?”

“Yes – love potions. Very few people actually have the courage to use them you know – they prefer to depend on beautifying potions. Like that hag Malodora Grymm who used one to ensnare a King…”

“Yes?” Ginny wasn’t usually this impatient with Luna, but she had no idea what she was driving at.

“How long have you been in love with Harry?”

“I don’t know, all right. I didn’t just wake up some beautiful morning and realise ‘Oh I’m in love with him’. I just…am. What does it even matter?”

“Well you see, I’ve been studying some of the old love potions, and they need hair from a couple who are truly in love, and of course I thought of you and Harry – but then I remembered I never actually asked you.”

“Oh.” Ginny felt rather limp – she supposed there was some kind of logic to Luna’s thought processes, but she couldn’t see it for the life of her.

They had reached the entrance to the Ravenclaw’s tower, and Luna put her hand on Ginny’s arm, saying, “He needs you much more than you know.”

Ginny nodded. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was only as Luna left that she thought to ask – “Luna – you’re not actually going to make a Love Potion are you?”

“Of course not – only mad people actually believe in Love Potions.”

Ginny made her way back to Gryffindor Tower very slowly – she felt as though she’d been kicked in the head several times, hard.


	8. Slow and Steady

Ginny stared out the window absently, chewing on the end of her quill. It was somewhat difficult to do her astronomy homework when a spring moon shone so brightly that the stars were invisible. She could go up to the Astronomy Tower and use one of the better telescopes, she supposed, but she couldn’t quite summon up the will to leave her chair. She loved astronomy, she really did but…what with everything else that was going on in the world, it was hard to get worked up about star charts. And Ginny loved star charts.

A slight breeze, clean-scented, blew through the window, scattering her parchment on the floor, and pulling her from her reverie. Thankfully the inkpot hadn’t blown over, but she blew her hair out of her eyes in irritation nonetheless. Nothing today had gone to plan, starting with the bad news in this mornings Prophet. It wasn’t as if she was unused to horrendous news but, between the attack on Gringotts, her Defense Against the Dark Arts test and a particularly horrid Transfiguration class she had been in no good mood when she arrived at dinner. 

Whereupon things had promptly got worse. Harry and Hermione had barely a word for her, being engrossed in some kind of argument of their own. Wisely, Ginny had decided not to interrupt them, as Harry and Hermione’s arguments tended towards the cataclysmic, but to her extreme disgust Ron had been eating too much to say words of more than one syllable, and, most unwisely in her opinion, someone had shown Colin Creevey a brochure on Security Troll Training, and he had been babbling about employment opportunities all through dinner.

She didn’t know how or why Colin picked up these fads, especially as he was so obviously destined for employment as a photographer of some sort, but she really didn’t care. She wanted to go home, she wanted Bill.

Of course it was wrong to have a favourite brother, and it wasn’t that she loved Bill more or anything ridiculous like that, but out of everyone in her family Bill had always been the one who listened. Looking back she understood why the rest of them had found her silly and boring, she really did – six-year-old girls don’t generally have very interesting things to say – but there had been a reason why her childish heart had been completely devoted to Bill, and it wasn’t because he had cool hair. 

Every year when he came home from Hogwarts he wouldn’t just tell her stories of his wonderful exploits like the rest of them, he would actually listen to her stories – even if they were only about the badger she’d seen in the garden, and why she didn’t like the Ghoul. Maybe he had found her as dull as the others, but he had never shown it. Ginny sniffled a little theatrically – she missed her brothers. She missed Bill, and Fred and George, and Percy, and Charlie.

Charlie had made her want to fly. He didn’t know it, but the summer after he had been made Seeker, she had crept up to the meadow to watch him fly. He moved like no one else she had ever seen – wonderful looping turns, and dives that made the air his, and Ginny had watched with eyes like saucers. He looked like a king.

It had come as something of a shock when he dived practically on top of her where she was hunkered in the grass. He had yelled at her, in what Ginny later realised was shock and fear at having nearly broken her neck. It was only when she broke down and said she’d been watching cause, he ‘looked so cool’, in the tone of adoration and admiration she had always reserved for Bill, that he calmed down. To this day, no Quidditch player, not even Harry, not even the Irish Chasers, compared to Charlie in her mind.

She missed them both savagely right now, and she could guess the reason why. Harry had her off balance, and there wasn’t anyone she could talk to about it. Ron would practically have a heart attack, Neville would be broadly supportive but as confused as she was, and Ginny had always felt somewhat guilty about making Hermione listen to her side of the story as well as Harry’s. There was, of course, Luna, but Luna’s advice tended towards the cryptic, and as much as Ginny loved her, she just wasn’t in the mood.

And none of her other friends knew Harry – not really. And there was no point in even talking about it if they didn’t know Harry. Ginny knew with her logical mind, that Harry must feel the same way she did, but, and this was the point Hermione so often failed to grasp, logic didn’t matter a damn in this situation.

He hadn’t actually done anything. He just kept looking at her in that piercing way, as if he saw right inside her, even when she was inside out and backwards from confusion. And she was sick and tired of it – sick and tired of having to struggle to concentrate, struggle with even the simplest of conversations because all she could think about was him. She hated being so weak and unsure all the time – and over a boy! It was rather too pathetic and damsel in distress-ish for her taste.

All of this was running through her mind on this rather sweet Wednesday evening towards the end of April, when Harry refused to study the conjuring of food with Hermione yet again, dismissing it as pointless. She shouldn’t have said it, she was completely out of line, but it spilled out before she could catch it. 

“You’ve got some nerve.”

He wheeled around and barked. “What!”

She knew he was fated to fight Voldemort, knew what it cost him, but, aside from her own frustrations, she was more than a little disturbed by his borderline obsessive preparation for that fight. It was time someone reminded him that there was more to his life than one more confrontation. 

So she stood up and faced him. “You heard me.”

His mouth hung open in surprise and she continued. “Do you know that conjuring food is one of the most complicated and exhausting spells you can learn? Do you?”

“It’s not important Ginny – it doesn’t matter when…”

She cut him off sharply, not interested in hearing the rest, and said, “I know, I know but that doesn’t change the fact that in a couple of years you’re going to be sitting in an empty flat, unable even to conjure a cup of tea. You’ll spend your whole adult life unable to feed yourself, and let me tell you something – I’m not going to cook for you!”

Harry looked rather like a fish, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to think of a response. After several seconds he sat down beside Hermione and opened his textbook. Ginny was sure she heard Ron mutter, “Nice one” under his breath.

She was more than ready to go to bed, so she yawned her way through a ‘goodnight’ and had turned to go up the stairs when Harry caught her hand and said, “Do you have to go?”

“Yeah. I’m really tired and…Desdemona misses me.”

“Really?”

“She thinks you’re monopolising my time.” Ginny could have clapped a hand over her mouth, except Harry was holding it, and the other held her books. She must be sleep-deprived – that was the only excuse for the outrageous things she kept saying.

Harry grinned at her. “Well tell her I’m not sorry.”

“I’ll have to think about that you know.”

“About what?”

“You monopolising my time.”

Harry’s face fell slightly, and Ginny cursed herself – she hadn’t meant to sound quite so harsh. But then he gave her that look, that soul-twisting look, and squeezed her hand slightly, saying, “Well don’t think too hard all right. You get some mad ideas about me.”

Ginny stared at him – his meaning was completely clear, even to her. She started to back away from him, but Harry did not want to let go. She stared at him, and he stole a quick look at Hermione (arguing with Ron as usual) and said, “Look Ginny, you got…you’ve got to know that…”

Hermione opened her book with a snap, and Harry looked away. Ginny nearly swore out loud – why did this keep happening? Summoning up her courage she kissed him quickly on the cheek, and then hugged Ron in an attempt to cover her embarrassment, before going to be with even more to think about when it came to Harry Potter.


	9. Boundless as the Sea

She heard the screams first – then saw the mob of students running for the castle.

 

Moments before Peeves had given the alram – Voldemort’s army was massed at the gates. Ginny had to fight back the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Voldemort had raised the largest army of dark creatures and wizards in the history of the wizarding world, and he was using it all to attack a school. Nonetheless, the humour seemed lost on most of the students around her, who were panicking at the thought that, sooner or later, the Death Eaters would break through.

 

She had been in Greenhouse Number Four gathering potions ingredients for Snape when she heard Peeve’s call. Outside was chaos, and Ginny immediately saw that her fellow students were too alarmed to think clearly.

 

In an instant she had performed the Sonorus charm. “Everyone will please, shut up!” She said.

 

Someone had to take over, and there were no other members of the DA or Prefects near by. To Ginny’s satisfaction everyone turned to stare at her. “Right,” she said. “We go through by years, youngest first. Sixth and seventh years spread out, and get your wands out. The second you’re in make your way to the Great Hall, unless a teacher tells you different.”

 

They followed her instructions to the letter, and within five minutes everyone was inside, except for a fourth year Care of Magical Creatures class Hagrid was escorting. Ginny hopped through the main door, saying “Quietus” as she went. Professor McGonagall gave her a ghost of a smile and said, “Well done Miss Weasley.”

 

Ginny managed a tight grin at her and nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Thankfully it was only Neville. She smiled gratefully, and followed him to a small alcove. As soon as they were far enough away from the noise of frightened students, he whispered, “The DA is going to fight with the Order – the Aurors are on their way. Harry sent me to get you.”

 

Ginny nodded, and impulsively leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “We’ll be all right Neville,” she said.

 

It was difficult for her to move with any great speed through the crush of the corridors, but Neville kept a strong hold of her arm and gradually the crowd thinned. Ginny’s nerves chilled pathways down her skin, inside her ears and in the juices of her stomach. It was happening now – tonight. She hadn’t been expecting this; despite Harry’s cryptic hints and the sense of foreboding that had drilled into her bones, it still felt like a shock.

 

Never enough time. Never, ever enough. By the time they reached Harry, Ron and Hermione, Neville’s hand was damp in hers. Ginny gave them all a brief smile and said, “Where’s Luna?”

 

Ron’s tone was brusque. “She’s getting the DA members from Ravenclaw.”

 

They spent a busy twenty minutes planning – Harry ordered her and Hermione to partner each other, and work with Ron and Neville as a foursome. Ginny felt queasy at the thought of battle – she just hoped Luna found Ernie in time (somehow, they had become a formidable pair.) Her wand nearly dropped from her fingers as they turned to leave, and she remembered Hermione’s terse injunction: “Show the dense prat what you’re made of.”

 

It was beyond time for her to be honest, and as they walked to the Entrance Hall to wait for the Order, Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him aside.

 

“Ginny! What are you doing?” He hissed at her, but she ignored him, putting a finger to his lips.

 

“I want you to promise me something,” she said, ignoring the contortions of his face as impatience and curiosity warred within him. “Whatever happens, you promise that you’re coming back.”

 

His eyes softened and he started to say, “Ginny, I can’t…”

 

“I don’t care! You promise you’re coming back to me.”

 

“To you?”

 

Ginny had never seen such an expression of heartfelt delight on Harry’s face before and, at last, she gave in to the instincts that had been plaguing her for months, and leant up to kiss him. His mouth was warm and wonderful on hers, and Ginny felt a dreadful weeping pain that she might never experience this again, and that it must be such a short moment of fulfillment, but also a joy so profound that it ran through her like her life’s blood. Finally, she was where she was supposed to be – in Harry’s arms. They clung to each other, trying to feel and taste as much as they could in this brief interlude, and Ginny spared a thought to be grateful Ron was behind Harry not her, because if he could have seen where the Boy Who Lived had his hands…

 

It couldn’t last, and with difficulty they pulled apart, breathing heavily. Seamus and Dean let out whoops of appreciation, and Ginny searched Harry’s face. “Do you promise?”

 

He leant down to kiss her cheek, and murmured, “We’ll talk about it later…after.”

 

Ginny nodded. She understood – in his own way, he was promising. A smile bubbled up inside her, and Ginny knew she could take on anything tonight and win. Harry felt the same way.

 

He locked hands with her, and didn’t let go until the last possible moment, and not without pressing one last, firm kiss to her mouth. Now she was shaking from something other than nerves. She would give anything to keep him from this fight, but if she couldn’t, the least she could do was send him off with smiles, not tears.

 

And so, Ginny dragged him back to her – and flung herself at him with a hunger she hadn’t known she possessed. Part of it was a desperate wish to cling to his touch, and part her desire to let him know, once for all, exactly how she felt.

 

When Harry was gone, it was Ron’s eyes that helped her hold together. Ron knew, Ron understood, because it tore to him to the heart to let Harry go, just as much as it did her. He squeezed Ginny’s shoulder, kissed Hermione and shook hands with Neville – and they lifted their wands. It was time.

 

* * *

 

Ginny was one of several people decorated for courage in that last, horrendous, battle, but her abiding memory was not of bravery or glorious victory, but a clawing longing to know if he would return. Only once did that thought shift from the forefront of her mind – when her hair was abruptly transformed into three-dozen snakes. Aside from that moment, she felt continual, fevered tension until a lean figure emerged from the forest.

 

Author’s Note

And now, if you want to know exactly what happened at the end of the battle, I refer you to the epilogue of “Men Love With Their Eyes”. Only chapter left now.

 

The title comes from Romeo and Juliet Act Two, Scene Two – specifically Juliet’s speech:

 

But to be frank, and give it thee again.

And yet I wish but for the thing I have:

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite.


	10. Epilogue: Renew Thy Force

Ginny leant against the fence of the chicken coop thoughtfully. It still felt very strange to walk around without her wand – good, but strange. In the aftermath of the battle Professor Lupin had said it would take time to return to normal. She had not known how right he was until they had all returned to the Burrow. The first few weeks had been harder than any of them had expected – the temptation to jump at every unfamiliar noise, to use every security charm known to wizard kind, had been very strong. It had taken time, and peace, and lots of sleep for Harry to lose the hardened, desperate look in his eyes, but he had.

It was Harry’s birthday that had shown them they could after all be happy. Ginny knew she would never forget that night, and the perfect, glorious beauty of it. Everyone had come, so that the walls of the Burrow had nearly bulged from the crowd, and even her mother had strained to feed them all. And there had been music, and dancing and laughter, and Harry had found her in the garden and kissed her until they were both dizzy. 

It was strange how easily they had slipped into being a couple, if one thought about it. Ron and Hermione had endured something of a growing process after they had finally got together, but Ginny and Harry had experienced none of their pangs. Ginny’s best guess was that they had spent so long already as a couple without the benefits that they had already gone through the adjustment.

She couldn’t get over being able to touch him. Not of course that there had been much touching in Molly Weasley’s house (at least, not that Ginny’s Mum had known about) but Harry was thinking of getting a house in Hogsmeade soon, with Ron’s tacit approval. Ginny had a feeling she’d be using the secret passageways a lot that year.

Two ministry owls flew overhead as Ginny turned back to the house – she rather needed to wash her feet and legs after traipsing through the mud of the yard. It had rained the night before, and she and Hermione and Luna had had a cosy night in, chatting and drinking Butterbeer. Much later in the evening Harry had crawled into her bed, smelling of rain and sweat and drink. He’d mumbled something about the Snitch and collapsed into sleep – Ginny guessed the Chudley Cannons Seeker had actually won a match, hence the celebrations.

He was still asleep now, his mouth open as he snored slightly and his hair an even more impressive mess than usual. Ginny hadn’t had the heart to wake him, though she knew he would have to get up eventually. She decided to be a dutiful girlfriend that morning, and brewed an anti-hangover potion – she hoped Harry knew it would be a rare luxury.

“Ginny!”

She started as she heard Harry yelling bloody murder in the house, but before she had even reached the door, he came pounding out and seized her round the waist. Harry was laughing and he spun her around quickly, until she had to fight to breathe, from the speed and the joy of it. He bent his head and kissed her, so well and for so long, that she forgot he probably had something to tell her, and just clung. 

It was several minutes before they let go, and Ginny shoved at his shoulder playfully. “So? What is it – I thought you were still conked out.”

Harry grinned and looked at his feet as he said, “I got an owl from the Ministry.”

Ginny wasn’t used to seeing him this bashful, and she prompted him. “And?”

“And – I got in. I’m going to be an Auror Ginny!”

“Harry! That’s amazing!” Ginny flung her arms around him, again. He had wanted this so much.

They must have spent several minutes laughing and hugging each other before they were good for anything rational, but at last they managed to sit down on the steps of the porch, and restrain themselves. Harry kept staring at the parchment, as if he didn’t quite believe what it said, and Ginny found herself chattering with excitement.

“Oh Mum’s going to be so happy – you have to tell her Harry, the second she gets back. She’ll probably want to have another party – oh Harry, I’m…I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at her then, his eyes glowing in that way they did when she said something he hadn’t anticipated. He smiled and took her hand, saying, “Thanks.”

“Really Harry,” Ginny said, shifting to settle into his lap. “…You’re just the most amazing…man, and, you know I think you’re wonderful, right? I always have.”

He locked his arms around her, and from the look on his face Ginny knew she had got through to him. She’d never seen such an open, trusting look on him before, and she liked it.

Smiling, she looped her arms around his neck, and added, “Have we got that clear? Cause, I really don’t want to have to keep saying it – you’ll get a swelled head.”

His lips on hers cut her off, and it was several minutes before they were free to talk again. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, and leaned his forehead against hers, saying, “Just don’t call me a man again for a while, okay? It makes me sound so old.”

Ginny breathed a light laugh. “Deal. You just make sure not to call me a little girl.”

Harry’s eyes flicked downwards for a second, and he said, “Never. I promise.” She had to laugh at such a beginning, but he continued, “It won’t mean I can’t live in Hogsmeade, you know. I’ll still be there.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

“I couldn’t not be near you.”

Ginny sighed, smiling at him. “Harry you could – I just really don’t want you to.”

“Yeah. I love you, Ginny.”

She laughed then – she couldn’t help it. She was just so happy. Fortunately, Harry understood, and he held her close as she shook with joy. Eventually she pulled herself together enough to say, “I’m really going to miss you this year.”

He put a finger over her lips and said, “Ginny, what are invisibility cloaks and Marauder’s Maps for? I expect to see you frequently.”

“Are you encouraging to break the rules? In my NEWT year?”

Harry put his head to one side as if considering, and said, “Yes.”

“Oh. Hermione would be ashamed.”

“After the amount of rules she’s broken? I know what those two used the Prefect’s Bathroom for.”

“Harry! That’s my brother.”

“Oh yeah – he got in too.”

“What!”

“Yeah. We both got owls.”

“Obviously – why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…forgot. You were talking.”

“Talking? That’s all we were doing?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Oh! You’re such a boy!” Ginny stood up, pulling Harry with her. “Come on,” she said, “I’ve to go congratulate my brother.”

They walked into the house, Harry dropping a kiss on her cheek as they went through the door, and went in search of Ron and Hermione.  
Author’s Note

The title comes from Shakespeare’s sonnet 56.

Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said  
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,  
Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,  
To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might:  
So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill  
Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,  
To-morrow see again, and do not kill  
The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.  
Let this sad interim like the ocean be  
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new  
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see  
Return of love, more blest may be the view;  
Else call it winter, which being full of care  
Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.


End file.
